


Molecular Disturbances

by whitachi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitachi/pseuds/whitachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/789614">Busted</a>. Garrett has a rough time with Stacey's break-up/make-up cycle with his girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Molecular Disturbances

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Busted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/789614) by [ladysisyphus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladysisyphus/pseuds/ladysisyphus), [whitachi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitachi/pseuds/whitachi). 



It wasn't the first time Cherise had broken up with him, but it was the first time Garrett was around to witness it. Garrett had been on the job for five months, and it was the first time he'd ever seen Stacey in such a state. He was tired and tense throughout the day, heavy circles under his eyes and a way about him where he laughed a little too immediately at things and talked just a bit too loudly. Cory stood beside him and sighed as they watched Stacey rub his eyes and stare at the refilling coffee pot.  
  
"She does this at least once a year. Sometimes twice. I don't know why he puts up with it." Her arms were crossed across her chest and her mouth was a tight line. "And in like a month they'll be back together."  
  
"She sounds... charming." It was the most measured thing Garrett could get out of his mouth. He hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Stacey's girlfriend-- _ex_ -girlfriend, now--and he was glad for it. The mixture of jealousy and loathing he'd experience would probably make him grow horns or something.  
  
"Oh, she's a real peach." Cory sighed and put a hand to her brow. "I mean, she could be a lot worse, but she just keeps _doing_ this to him. He could do a lot better. Like, a _lot_." Garrett bit the side of his tongue as he watched Stacey burn his mouth on his cup of coffee.  
  
"He got dumped when I first met him, too. Right when we were finishing up on the movie. ...so I guess he hasn't done much better since then." That time, Garrett hadn't even known Stacey'd been broken up with until he'd already been dragged out to a bar and had two beers; the third beer came with a toast to being single, and Garrett had nearly swallowed his tongue with the first swig. The alcohol had made him brave that night, made him lean in a little closer, made him flirt a little more, but it didn't make him brave enough; they drank and talked and Garrett just ended up passed out on Stacey's couch. He never got up the balls to make a move. But that was five years ago. "I know what we can do." He gestured for Cory to follow him and marched over to where Stacey had a thousand-yard stare as he drank his coffee.  
  
"Hey, guys, 'sup." Stacey smiled, showing a few too many teeth. "Watch it, it's still way hot." Garrett took a breath and put both of his hands on Stacey's shoulders.  
  
"We're not here for coffee," he said. "We're here to help you."  
  
"Yeah!" Cory added; Garrett hadn't known her long, but her willingness to go along with any plan made him like her all the more.  
  
Stacey looked at him, then to Cory, then furrowed his brows. "Help me with what?"  
  
"Many songs have been written about the greatest cure for heartache." Garrett squeezed Stacey's shoulders. He was warm through his t-shirt, radiating like a furnace. "We are going to get you _drunk_ tonight, Anastacio."  
  
Stacey looked between the two of them again, then grinned. "You guys are the _best_ ," he said, and then Garrett found himself suddenly pulled against Stacey's chest, wrapped in a hug--a bro hug, with lots of pounding on the back, but a hug, nonetheless. Cory wrapped her arms around the both of them, squeezing them tighter together.  
  
"I love it when we can bond over alcohol," she said, and Garrett allowed himself to close his eyes for a few seconds and take a breath. Stacey smelled like coffee and sweat, and it was intoxicating. He was still reeling a little when the three of them untangled, and he took a quick clearing breath as he tugged his shirt down a little.  
  
"After work. We will select the location and buy your drinks. You are under specific instructions to have a good time." Garrett spoke this as solemnly as he could, giving Stacey one last shoulder thump.  
  
"You've got it," Stacey said, giving a thumbs up. He looked a little healthier already, some fire back in his eyes. "Thanks, guys, seriously."  
  
"Anything for you, Stacey," Cory said, and Garrett was glad she had; it would have sounded _much_ gayer coming out of him.  
  
***  
  
At the end of the day when all of the powertools had been put away and it was time for any good Truthcrasher to head home, they put on their drinking shoes and headed out to a place of Cory's suggestion, a Mexican joint that was famous for its mediocre food and even more famous for its margaritas and giant fishbowls of Dos Equis. A plate of tacos and two fishbowls later, Stacey already seemed to be faring a little better.  
  
"You know, I think it's probably a good thing, you know?" He was sort of artfully sprawled back in his chair, holding on to his giant goblet of beer in such a way that the whole scene painted an image of the king of overgrown skateboard kids on his throne. "I just need to be single for a while, probably. I mean, I've been dating someone or another pretty much constantly since I was like... sixteen?" He counted on his fingers a little. "Seventeen? Whatever, too long. It'll build some character or some shit like that." It wasn't the best personal pep-talk Garrett had ever heard, but he liked the message; the longer Stacey was single, the longer he had a chance to... have a chance. "But I'm still totally getting another tattoo."  
  
"Tattoo?" Garrett asked. He'd seen Stacey with his shirt off when he'd been hooked up to a lie detector on Garrett's third day on the job, and wasn't _that_ a lovely welcome, but he hadn't seen any tattoos. "You have a tattoo?"  
  
"He's got a _couple_ ," Cory supplied, gesturing vaguely with the straw from her margarita.  
  
Stacey laughed and started to stand up. "Oh, yeah, I guess I hadn't started doing that the last time you were around me for a breakup. Check it, dude," he said, and started to unfasten his pants. "No need to fear, ladies and children, this will be safe for everyone." Garrett grasped his (regular-sized) beer glass tight enough that he wondered if he could shatter it.  
  
Stacey tugged down the right side of his jeans and held up his shirt, showing off a row of neat black molecular diagrams down along his right hip, following the cut of his groin to where it seemed they might collide with his happy trail, or with... something else, and oh, Garrett hoped he could explain any part of his red face on being an Asian consuming alcohol. "Uh... wow," he managed to work out, his tongue gone dumb as his eyes just slid down that line again and again.  
  
"That one's adrenaline, that one's TNT, that's taurine... you get the picture." His hands moved over to his left up, tugging down a little to show that it was bare. "I'm out of room there, so I'm going to have to switch over to this hip." Stacey tugged his pants up and gave a little wave to the people who had started staring, and sat back down. Garrett finished his beer.  
  
"They're, um, very cool," he said, and hoped his scooting closer to the table was subtle, since he was now suffering certain pants problems himself. "Very good work." He bit his tongue before he just kept _saying_ things.  
  
Stacey rubbed his hip, two fingers sliding down the line where Garrett could still see that tattoos in his mind. "Yeah, so that's my thing. I pretty much get a new one when I get dumped. Makes me feel, I don't know..." He picked up his bowl of beer again and took a drink. "More like myself again. Something for me."  
  
"What're you going to get this time?" Cory asked. Garrett blinked a little and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd sort of forgotten she was there.  
  
"I dunno." Stacey's eyes scanned over the table, and he laughed when he looked at the nearly-empty dish of salsa that he'd been devouring earlier. "Capsaicin?"  
  
"Oh, put that one totally close to your junk. Spicy!" Cory laughed and held her hand up for a high-five from Stacey, which she received. Garrett pushed his chair back from the table and stood up.  
  
"I'm going to get another round. Everyone staying the same?" Cory nodded, and Stacey tilted back his glass to finish off the last few ounces of his beer.  
  
"Fishbowl me, amigo."  
  
"Sure thing, hombre," Garrett said, and instead of heading to the bar, went to the bathroom to splash as much cold water on himself as he could without coming back looking like he'd been in a rainstorm.  
  
***  
  
At around ten-thirty Cory's husband Eric came to claim her and take her home, which she clearly desperately needed; after a few margaritas that girl got _loud_ , getting into a debate about Battlestar Galactica with Stacey that Garrett was temporarily worried would come to blows. She gave everyone hugs and kisses before she left, saying goodbye to Stacey in particular by beeping him on the nose three times, punctuated by the instruction, "Don't! Be! Sad!"  
  
That did seem to be the danger looming, as the night went on and Garrett lost count of the number of fishbowls Stacey had consumed. He'd cut himself off about an hour ago, remembering that he would eventually have to drive somewhere tonight, but his head was still swimming. He had enough clarity in him to see that Stacey was fading, though; that far-off look was back in his eyes, and he was quiet now that Cory was gone. It was probably for the best if they _all_ went home, and that's when Garrett knew he had to be drunk, since that voice in the back of his mind was there, that voice he could usually keep quiet; it was telling him what a _great_ idea it would be to ask Stacey to come home with him, how this was all really the opportunity he needed to finally make his move, how Stacey was really just asking for it with that tattoo move earlier.  
  
Garrett pinched the bridge of his nose and took a heavy breath. "Hey, we should probably call it a night, huh? We do have to work tomorrow." Stacey groaned a little and set his empty glass on the table.  
  
"Oh, crap, thanks for reminding me. Think I could call out with a case of death?"  
  
"I think Jules would still make you come in."  
  
" _Contagious_ death. Real nasty." He grumbled and tried to pull himself a little more upright in his chair, which wasn't wholly successful. "But, yeah, you're right." He started to stand up and wavered a little, catching himself on the table.  
  
"I'm going to drive you home," Garrett said immediately, and if that little voice in his head had some ideas about where that could lead, well, good for it.  
  
"But my car..." Stacey had managed to get himself full standing, but he was hanging on to the back of his chair.  
  
"I'll pick you up in the morning and we can swing by and get it. We can get breakfast or something." It would be easy to _make_ him breakfast, especially if he stayed the night... Garrett made a quiet oath to not have so many next time he was drinking with Stacey. It would only lead to carelessness.  
  
"Hey, sounds fun. Breakfast date."  
  
Garrett bit the inside of his cheek and stood up to slide an arm around Stacey, who immediately slumped into him, putting his non-insubstantial weight on him. "Breakfast date, I promise."  
  
Together they swayed and stumbled their way out to find Garrett's car, and Garrett practically poured Stacey into the front seat. Stacey still managed to bump his head on the door and his knees on the dashboard, but that only made him laugh. "Your car hates me, dude," he said as he fumbled to get his seatbelt fastened. He didn't have much luck, and after a while Garrett swatted his hands away and fastened it for him. He took the moment while he could, while he had so many good excuses, and brushed his knuckles up along Stacey's side, skimming from his waist to his ribcage. Stacey's eyes were closed and he was smiling, and for a moment Garrett's heart stopped, until Stacey laughed and squirmed. "Hey, watch it, that tickles!"  
  
"Sorry, my bad," Garrett mumbled, and buckled his own seatbelt.  
  
Stacey wasn't drunk enough that he couldn't remember his address, and Garrett was sober enough that he could operate his GPS _and_ follow its directions. Stacey stayed quiet through the drive, slumped over with his head against the window, eyes closed. Garrett wondered if maybe he'd fallen asleep, but then Stacey started humming something, a little snippet of a Shakira song they'd played in the restaurant. Hips don't lie, Garrett thought, and thought of molecules, and gripped his hands tighter on the steering wheel.  
  
"Is this it?" Garrett said when the GPS's polite voice told him he'd reached his destination. Stacey cracked open an eye and peered out the window.  
  
"I don't know, all the apartments around here look the same." He looked at Garrett's face and laughed. "Kidding, it's totally my place. Haha, your face..." He struggled to find his seatbelt's button as Garrett got out of the car.  
  
Stacey managed to make it out of the car without hitting his head again, but he didn't seem to solid on his feet after that. Garrett looped an arm around his waist before he took a step off the curb into the street, and corralled him to his front door. "Do you have your keys?"  
  
"Yeah, somewhere, some pocket," Stacey said, and bent his head over until his face was in Garrett's hair. "Your head smells good. I like it. It's like... a puppy."  
  
"A puppy?" Garrett completely wasn't sure what to make of that comparison, but he could feel Stacey's lips moving against his scalp when he talked.  
  
"Warm and soft and just... nice." He laughed into Garrett's hair. "You're really a great guy. I like you"  
  
Garrett went still. Stacey was breathing into him, nearly wrapped around him, and talking about how much he liked him? Maybe that little voice in his head didn't have the wrong idea after all. He turned his head in a little, against Stacey's shoulder. All he had to do was tilt his head up a little, and his mouth could be on Stacey's neck, he could be tasting the skin that smelled so good. He took a breath and held it, and just as he let it out Stacey groaned and turned his head away.  
  
"Okay, seriously, we need to get inside, I have to pee so bad." Garrett closed his eyes and bit the place on the inside of his cheek that he'd bitten so many times that night. He bit harder as he reached into Stacey's front pocket and pulled out his keys, and harder still as he knew he was sliding his hand past that line of tattoos. "Oh, awesome, there they are. It's the big gold one."  
  
He got Stacey into the building and _somehow_ got him up the stairs to his apartment and inside, where Stacey got better control of his feet and headed for the bathroom all by himself. Garrett could hear him peeing for basically years as he looked around the place. It was much different than his own; a little messier, sure, but still made up of the same Ikea furniture, the same sort of movie posters and bits of machinery. Garrett wanted to stay. He needed to go.  
  
"Hey, are you going now?" Stacey said as he came out of the bathroom. He was heavy-eyed but there was some bit of tension there, a bit of pleading in the knit of his brow. "Wanna watch a movie or something?"  
  
Worth a shot, the little voice said, and Garrett shrugged. "Sure, why not." Stacey smiled, soft and happy.  
  
"Thanks, man, seriously. I just... don't feel like being alone right now."  
  
The inside of his cheek was threatening to bleed, so Garrett left it alone. "That's what I'm here for, man."  
  
"You're the best. Just the best," Stacey said, and fell half-sideways on the couch. Garrett sat next to him on the other end, but Stacey's sprawl was enough that their knees still touched.  
  
Garrett hit play on whatever DVD was in the player, which meant _Mad Max_ was their movie of choice. Stacey muttered something about how Mel Gibson had been so awesome before he went crazy. He had a few more comments, about Australia and deserts and cars, and then he went quiet after a while, watching the movie through heavy eyes. Garrett took a breath and scooted over a little on the couch, and when Stacey did nothing at that, he scooted over a little more, until it wasn't just their knees touching, but their thighs, and Garrett was a few more cleansing breaths away from actually putting his arm around Stacey's shoulders when he heard a loud snort from Stacey, and looked over to find him totally asleep.  
  
"...Fuck," Garrett said quietly, just in general, and watched him for a little while. He looked a little worried, even in his sleep, his brows pushing together like something was bothering him. Garrett wanted to reach over and rub that line of tension away, but instead he got up and went to the kitchen to find a glass of water that he could put within Stacey's immediate reach. After a moment's thought, he went to the bathroom and dug up a bottle of aspirin from the medicine cabinet, and put that next to the water. He turned down the volume on the movie, but left it playing, and after a few more minutes of what he realized was totally creepy staring, he took the blanket from the arm of the couch and tossed it over Stacey, tugging it up around his shoulders. Stacey made a soft sound, something pleased, and that line of worry went out of his brows.  
  
Garrett stayed leaning over him like that, just watching him breathe. He leaned in, enough that he could smell his skin again, enough that Stacey had to feel his breath as his mouth came near his forehead, stopping only a quarter-inch away from contact.  
  
"Fuck," he said again, straightened up, and left Stacey's apartment to drive home.  
  
***  
  
One week later, Stacey came in to proudly show off his new tattoo. It was far down his left hip, the molecule for capsaicin.  
  
Four weeks later, he was back with Cherise.


End file.
